"Cheers— we are finally free!" Felicity shouted, raising a paper cup so hard she splashed champagne on her shoes. "Easy, Fel," Baxter laughed. "You're going to drown the potted plant." "Good," Felicity said. "Let the potted plant know what freedom tastes like." "I didn't sign up to be the plant's sponsor," I said, smiling and leaning against the balcony rail. The river glittered. The city lights blinked. The party noise was a soft pulse behind us. "Lenore, say something graduate-like," Baxter nudged me with his elbow. "I could say 'congrats to me' and mean it," I said. "I could say 'the world is mine' and lie." "Say something dramatic," Felicity demanded. I shrugged. "Okay. Here's my dramatic line: Onward to chaos." They laughed. Felicity grabbed my shoulders and squeezed. Baxter's grin was all teeth and easy warmth. I felt ordinary and full and small and safe. "Promise me one thing," Felicity said, suddenly soft. "No stupid dares tomorrow. No midnight heroics. You owe me a weekend of coffee and bad rom-coms." "I promise," I said. "Cross your heart?" she insisted. "I cross my heart," I said, and she tapped my palm like it was a solemn treaty. "Good," Felicity said. She drained her cup and tossed it into a nearby bin. "Now dance." We danced for two songs, making stupid moves that earned us a chorus of laughter from the other students clustered on the rooftop. Someone popped the speakers louder. A neighbor